In the Space between Heartbeats
by Archaeologist
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this. A/N: Takes place after Uther has been stabbed and Dragoon the Great is trying to heal him. 04x03 The Wicked Day AU.


**A/N:** Takes place after Uther has been stabbed and Dragoon the Great is trying to heal him. 04x03 The Wicked Day AU.

 **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not with Uther struggling for breath, Arthur beside him, staring down at his father, horror and fury written all over Arthur's face.

Merlin didn't know what to do. It should have worked, the spell should have restored Uther to health, the wound from the assassin's blade should have disappeared. Instead, with every moment, Uther paled and paled and paled, turning shroud-white as he struggled against the inevitable.

His knife half-out of its sheath, a clear threat, Arthur turned, sharp and strident, toward Merlin. "Do something or I'll gut you where you stand."

But Merlin ignored him. His own well-being was the last thing he was worried about. If the spell didn't work, if Uther died, then any chance of magic coming back to Camelot was all but lost, everything destroyed, and Merlin the cause of it.

Tossing the smoking herbs aside, he reached over to spread Uther's nightshirt wider, to see what, if anything he could do, but Arthur stopped him, grabbing Merlin's wrist and holding him tight.

"What are you doing?" Arthur snarled, seeming to grow more frantic and furious with every moment.

Pain spiking as Arthur, not knowing his own strength, tightened his grip, Merlin said, "I need to see the wound. There may be something preventing the spell from working."

Uther gasping beneath them both, Arthur stilled a moment, his gaze flicked down to his father and then back up at Merlin before releasing him. "Any treachery and you will pay the price."

Rubbing at his wrist, bruised and aching, Merlin nodded, then pushed the nightshirt aside.

The wound was red and weeping, worse than before, but that wasn't the problem. Instead, he could feel magic, dark and ugly, gathering around Uther, pulsing with blood and death and retribution, tightening with every painful gasp. And there, all that malevolent magic seemed to gather around Uther's neck, centering in a pendant that Merlin had never seen the king wear before, with symbols of the underworld and runes of revocation carved deep into the amulet's glowing silver.

Without thought, Merlin pulled at it, snapping the chain around Uther's neck and throwing the pendant lightning-fast into the fireplace, sending a ball of flame after it, hoping to destroy it, magic to magic.

There was an explosion of blue light, a roar of intensity that left Merlin blinded a moment, then as the brilliance died, he could hear Uther snarl, "What is the meaning of this? Arthur!"

Turning around, in an instant, Merlin could see that the wound had healed, that Uther was sitting up, his eyes flashing with hatred, his finger pointing straight at Merlin.

But before Arthur could answer, could even begin to explain, Uther roared out, "Sorcery! Guards, guards!"

Arthur staggered back toward Merlin, looking aghast at the turn of events, then mouthed out, too quiet for Uther to hear, "Run. Run before it's too late." Not waiting to see if Merlin obeyed him, he moved to back to his father's side, smoothing one hand down Uther's shoulder, trying in vain to placate him. "Father, listen, this man cured…."

Merlin didn't wait to hear more. The guards were already rushing into Uther's bedchamber, pikes and swords at the ready, but Merlin hadn't lived in the palace for years without learning every escape route – just in case. He turned, running out the side door into the little alcove that led back towards the servant's quarters.

There were more guards hurrying along the corridors, a whole troop of them. It would have been almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation. Merlin melted into the shadows, ducking behind a tapestry. In the darkness, he could hear shouts about a sorcerer loose and a hundred gold crowns for the man lucky enough to capture him.

Downing the awful potion that he needed to change back, trying to ignore the pain that came with returning to his younger self, he shrugged off the robes he'd borrowed from Gaius, then still a little weak from everything, he staggered off toward Uther's rooms. He knew Arthur would need him, especially with Uther's madness upon him again.

Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't in Uther's chambers. He was in the dungeon.

* * *

Merlin waited a few hours. He'd heard from Gwen that Uther went on a vicious tirade, threatening to kill every magic user in his kingdom, to destroy even those who would help hide such traitors, and in the midst of all that clamor for retribution, he'd ordered Arthur imprisoned in the dungeons until Uther saw fit to forgive him.

But Merlin wasn't about to let Arthur languish down there alone, not after he'd let 'Dragoon the Great' go. That part still amazed him, there was a bright joyous spot in his chest for the cabbagehead's unselfish act. Arthur could have bowed his head, let Uther do whatever he wanted, but instead he'd kept his word.

For that, at least, Merlin wanted to give Arthur a hug.

As he came down the stairs, tray in hand, the guards were eyeing him suspiciously, but Merlin sent them his idiot's smile and tripped a little on the last step. There were snickers and an eye-roll or two, but it got him past the guards and that was all that mattered.

Arthur was sitting on the ratty cot, staring out into the small square of sunshine high above, looking pensive, a little frown cutting into his face. For a moment, Merlin just stood there, watching him, then cleared his throat. Arthur whipped around, then his face fell when he saw who it was. But he did get up and walked over to the cell door. "Did my father send you?"

Shaking his head, Merlin said, "No, just thought that maybe a clotpoll might want some lunch." Lifting the cloth, he showed Arthur what he'd brought, herb-encrusted capons, some watered-down wine, and Arthur's favorite cheese.

Arthur nodded, his shoulders slumping, then he reached out and popped a bit of the cheese into his mouth. "My father has ordered that I'm to have only bread and water until I see fit to tell him where Dragoon lives so that he might _reward_ the sorcerer for his service." Shaking his head, he took a large swallow of the wine, then said, "My father believes that Dragoon put the pendant on him in the first place to deceive me into thinking he was a _good_ sorcerer.' Scrubbing his hand through his hair, Arthur gave a little sigh. "My father is… unwell."

That would explain a lot. Merlin just shrugged. "Unwell? Yeah, my mum's second cousin, Harald, was unwell, too, always thinking that the pigs were after him. Chasing them with his cane, shouting about how they were conspiring against him, and…."

Arthur just stared at him as if he had two heads. "And how is this peasant fifth cousin of yours similar in any way to that of my father?"

Merlin frowned a little. "Well, Harald is only my second cousin once removed but he…."

"Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes a bit, and taking another long sip of wine.

Knowing what was coming, knowing that he needed to let Arthur say it, Merlin blinked, then lifted his eyebrows as if to give off an air of absolute innocence. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Shut up." And there it was, something settled between them.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything else. Arthur continued to eat his way through the capon, a bit more of cheese, and most of the wine.

But Merlin couldn't just leave it like that. There were still too many unanswered questions. He did hesitate, though. Arthur had almost lost his father in the last few hours and the prat did tend to grow stubborn and annoying when pushed.

Still Merlin had to try. Handing Arthur the cloth to wipe his hands, Merlin said, "Arthur, you said it yourself. The king is unwell. What can be done?"

Arthur dropped the cloth onto the tray. Frowning again, looking as if he were thinking hard and not liking what he'd decided to do but determined to do it anyway, Arthur said, "He is my father and my king. I owe him my life and my obedience as Prince of Camelot. But I will do what I can." Arthur reached out, grabbing onto Merlin's sore wrist and pulling him closer. Whispering, a murmur hardly heard above the noise of the town coming through the open window, Arthur said, "You need to get word to Dragoon to leave Camelot before he's found and I can no longer help him."

It was hard not to pull away. Arthur's grip was firm and the bruises left from the last time Arthur held on throbbed, but still, Merlin was so relieved to hear it that he couldn't stop grinning. "So you _do_ believe Dragoon."

"Yes, you idiot. I'm not that blind. I was watching the sorcerer every second. He did not have time to put the necklace around my father's neck." Arthur let Merlin go. Scowling down at the straw of the cell floor, biting his lip as his frown deepened, Arthur said, "But someone else did, someone in the palace. I'd never seen its like before."

Rubbing at his wrist to ease the bruised ache, Merlin couldn't help himself. He knew that Arthur would reject it out of hand but it had to be said. "An ally of Morgana's? There is your uncle…."

"Merlin, do not start with Agravaine." That scowl turned on Merlin, and Arthur's hand came up, palm out to stop Merlin saying anything else. It was a clear reminder of Arthur's unwillingness to accept what was going on right under his nose. Shaking his head as Merlin opened his mouth to protest, Arthur said, sharp and final, "No, not another word."

It was incredibly frustrating and Merlin glared back at Arthur, wanting to shake the man into seeing the truth for what it was but knowing now was not the time.

Arthur wasn't done, though. Gesturing Merlin closer, Arthur murmured, "Can you persuade Dragoon to leave Camelot?"

"Yes, I'm sure you won't see him again."

Arthur seemed to relax, pulling back a little, and nodding as though satisfied. "Good." A moment later, solemn, Arthur said, "And tell him that when the time comes, I will keep my word. That his people will live in peace. That those with magic will be accepted."

A vow assured, a vow to be kept.

It was all Merlin had ever wanted, to be accepted, to be seen for what he truly was. His heart full of joy, almost incandescent with the promise of it, still he could not show just how much it meant to him. Arthur wasn't ready just yet for all the truth. Instead Merlin said, "And in the meantime?"

"I am beginning to realize that not all those who practice magic are evil." Arthur pulled back, his back straightening, looking every inch a king worthy of Merlin's devotion. "I will do whatever it takes to protect my people, even if I have to go behind my father's back to do it."

Still, Merlin was cautious, for Arthur's sake. "Your father grows more paranoid every day. He might see it as treason."

Arthur nodded as if he knew already the risks. "That is something I will just have to face when the time comes."

And with that, Merlin knew that this wicked day, a day of possibilities, of dire problems and desperate solutions, wild and fraught with dangers almost too terrible to envision, had forged a new beginning instead.

A new Arthur, it would seem, born of duty and a sense of responsibility to the people of Camelot. A new Arthur, perhaps ready to see the truth at last. A king for all his people, even those with magic.

Breathless with hope, Merlin sent him a bright smile, the only thing he could reveal until Arthur was truly king and Merlin freed of all the lies he'd told over the years.

"Sire, I will be with you on that day. And all the days after."

Arthur's eyes flashed a momentary surprise, then he nodded once, acceptance of the gift he'd been given. "I hope it won't come to that." Merlin gave him a little shrug, then picking up the tray, stood waiting for orders. "You should return to Gaius, help him until my father sees reason again." As Merlin turned to go, Arthur called after him, "And Merlin, next time, bring dessert."

"You keep it up and I'll have to put another hole in your belt. Or get a larger one." Then as Arthur sputtered out furious objections, Merlin just snickered, hurrying up the stairs.

Larger belt or not, the next time he saw Arthur, he'd bring him a whole basket full of tarts and pies and sugared fruit. Anything for Arthur. Anything for his King.

The end.


End file.
